CHAPTER NINETEEN
Summary: The battle is over and a marriage law has been put into effect due to the rapidly declining wizarding population. Under the law, Hermione is forced to marry at eighteen or face being exiled from the Wizarding World. Join Hermione as she has to deal with her past, whilst looking forward to the future, with the help of The Weasley Twins and rising Quidditch Star, Oliver Wood. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: All original characters and canon events belong to J.K. Rowling. Non-canon events are my own ideas. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic.
Updated: 21/05/20
Page count: 26
Wood Apartment - Sunday 2nd August 1998
Saturday was spent much in the same way as Friday was; lounging around in barely any clothing, laughing, chatting and reading in the library. When Oliver had learned that Hermione no longer felt any soreness he'd soon pounced on her, making it his mission to have her coming undone beneath him no matter the room or surface, but she'd put her foot down when he'd wanted to have sex in her much-loved library.
They'd also had Tillie collect Quaffle from Wood Manor as Hermione'd missed having him around, the playful pup comfortably sleeping on the bed in Hermione's old bedroom. The wedding photographer had also sent over the original copies of the photos, some of which Hermione had duplicated knowing her family would want copies, and the rest they'd scoured through, choosing their favourites before framing them and putting them on the walls in both the living room and down the corridors.
As Sunday morning arrived, Hermione found herself in the middle of a very pleasant dream involving a certain handsome husband of hers. He was kissing and nibbling at her neck and whilst he was rubbing her nub and two fingers were moving in and out of her. She was moaning and rocking her hips against his fingers, chasing the release that eluded her and when she finally tipped off the edge, her eyes flew open and choked gasp caught in her throat, realising that it hadn't been a dream.
"Mornin'," Oliver smiled down at her from his position of being propped up on elbow beside her. As her chest rose and fell, her brow furrowed slightly but when she noticed his erection pressing into her hip, she decided it was time to turn the tables.
The more she and Oliver had sex, the more confident she felt around him, and much to his surprise, she'd gone from shy and blushing to sex kitten in a matter of days.
Hermione rolled over and set her hands against his chest, pushing him onto his back, Oliver raising both eyebrows questioning before a groan caught in the back of his throat when Hermione moved to straddle him, took him in her hand and then she sank onto him. His head fell to be cushioned by the pillow and his hands moved to grip her hips. This was the first time she'd tried this position and Hermione's eyes closed and her head tipped back, taking in the feeling of the new angle, as he seemed to hit a whole new place inside of her.
Hermione wasn't exactly sure what to do next, so with his grip on her hips, Oliver helped guide her in the movements until she got the hang of it and moved without any help, finding her own pace. She pressed her hands against his chest, looking to not only find balance but to have something to grip onto as she felt herself approaching the edge and knowing this, Oliver rolled them and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pinned her hands above her head, her body stretching out beneath him.
As he kissed her, catching her moans and whimpers in his mouth, they were both approaching their release and Oliver shifted his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, when there was a knock on the apartment door that echoed through the empty apartment, Quaffle's barks mixing with the sound.
Oliver stilled for a brief moment before he shook his head and picked up speed. "Ignore it," he muttered, burying his face against her neck as she nodded, struggling to catch her breath between the moans and pants.
The knocking grew louder and more insistent, as did Quaffle's barking at the door. Hermione and Oliver were close to finding their release but Oliver's annoyance couldn't allow him to relax enough to find it, and with a growled curse, he pulled away from Hermione and climbed off the bed, grabbing a fallen bedsheet from the ground and wrapping around his waist as he stormed from the room.
Hermione would've laughed if she wasn't so worked up and desperate for release, and taking a few breaths to calm herself, she climbed off the bed and reached for the fallen throw blanket, wrapping it around her form.
As Oliver ensured his grip on the bedsheet, he reached for the door handle and pulled it open so fast he almost hit himself in the head, and he murderously glared at the person on the other side of it. It was a woman with dark blonde hair tied back into a bun, green eyes hidden by glasses and she wore dark Ministry robes and carried a briefcase. Her eyes roamed over Oliver's handsome yet angry face, his Quidditch toned chest gleaming with sweat and heaving in his annoyance, the bedsheet he'd wrapped around his waist, before her gaze lowered, landing on the erecting tenting the sheet. Oliver was far from embarrassed and not even his annoyance at her interruption could quell his desire for his wife, someone he had every intention of returning to as quickly as possible.
A blush covered the woman's cheeks and she licked her lips. Oliver's eyes narrowed.
"Can a help ye?" He asked, his tone less than friendly; she was the reason he wasn't currently ravishing his more than willing and beautiful wife.
"Maybe I can help you," she mumbled, something she likely hadn't meant to say aloud, but her gaze had yet to lift to his face.
"A have a wife, an' yer've jus' pulled mae away from her," he said unhappily, glancing at her coldly and at his tone, she finally looked up at him. "What do ye want?"
She cleared her throat but didn't look embarrassed as she straightened her posture. "My name is Karen Smyth, I have been appointed as your Marriage Official," she introduced, her eyes once more lowering to his chest.
At that point, Hermione made an appearance, stepping into view and wrapped in the dark throw cover, the colour contrasting against her skin. She laughed lightly when Quaffle bounded over to her and she greeted him a scratch to the head. As Oliver twisted to look behind him, his expression grew hungry as his eyes devoured her covered knowing, knowing what was hidden from him.
"Who's at the door, Oliver?" She asked, her attention on Quaffle as she crouched down to his level and giggled when he licked her cheek.
"Our Marriage Official," he replied, his voice softer with her as she sent an irritated glance towards the woman.
"What!" Hermione shrieked in mortification, springing to full height as she pulled the covers around her tighter, a blush staining her cheeks. Amused by her reactions, he sent Smyth a cold glance before he gestured for her to step into the apartment and he closed the door behind her.
"I'm going to change," Hermione muttered in embarrassment, but her eyes soon narrowed when she saw the way the Marriage Official was glancing at Oliver, feeling jealously flare up inside her.
"Naw, yer not," Oliver smirked, his eyes deliberately trailing her form, "There's naw point, a'll be ravishing tha' sexy body af yers in naw time."
"Oliver!" Hermione scolded, blushing furiously before she turned and made her way back to their bedroom.
Oliver sighed.
"Take a seat, we'll be back," he said to Smyth and left, too, scratching Quaffle on the head with a "Watch her, Quaffle"
He entered their bedroom and shut the door behind him, spying Hermione stepping into the walk-in wardrobe and he followed after her.
Hermione looked about in surprise, this being the first time she'd seen it and it was huge, being split into two sections. One side of the room was empty, it being obvious that was where her clothing would be stored, and the other side was filled with Oliver's clothing, it all being stored neatly and precisely, everything having its own place, something that surprised her. All button-down shirts and suits were hung up, summer jackets and winter coats and cloaks were hung up separately as well as the robes and formal robes. All Quidditch robes, practice robes and jerseys, both Puddlemere and old Gryffindor, were hung up together and all gloves and pads were in drawers. There was a draw filled with ties and bowties, a draw filled with pyjama bottoms, socks and underwear. Shelves lined the walls that sat folded t-shirts and jeans along with tracksuit bottoms, and there was an eight-foot-tall shoe rack built into the wall, sitting dress shoes, trainers and Quidditch boots, and there was a large mirror in the middle of the room, opposite the entrance. He had more clothing than she did.
Shaking her head, Hermione crossed over to the jerseys and pulled a Puddlemere one from the hanger, dropping the throw cover to the ground before she slipped the jersey over her body, if falling to her mid-thigh and hanging off her shoulder.
Hearing a sigh, Hermione turned around after pulling her hair from beneath the collar, quickly averting her eyes when Oliver stood before her in all his naked glory, his erection standing proudly.
"A think we should finish what we started," he said shamelessly.
"Oliver! She's only down the corridor and waiting for us, put some bloody clothes on! Hermione hissed, her cheeks flaming red.
"Anno," he shrugged, "But it serves her right fer turnin' up on a Sunday befere ten o'clock. It could be the Minister af Magic oot there an' a wouldn't give a toss," he replied, his eye drinking in the sight of her in his jersey, his name and number scrawled across her back.
Upon realising that he was serious and not just messing with her, her eyes widened before she darted around him and out of the wardrobe, but before she could make it to the bedroom door, Oliver had caught her, hiked her up so her legs were around his waist and pressed her against the bedroom wall.
After checking to see if she was ready for him and despite her protests, he found she was, Oliver shifted her weight, angled his hips and entered her, Hermione choking on a moan and Oliver sighing as his head tipped forward.
"This is gonna be quick, but a promise it'll feel jus' as good as any other time we've done this. An' feel free tae make as much noise as ye want," he breathed against her ear.
A shiver raced down her spine and then he started moving his hips, and being glad that his jersey was so big on her smaller frame, he pushed the collar down and lowered his mouth, latching onto a nipple as he set a hurried and almost punishing pace. She clung to him and tugged at his hair harshly. Oliver was right, it did feel good and it didn't take them long to find the release they'd been denied not too long ago. Trying to muffle her noises of pleasure by burying her face against him didn't work when he hit that spot inside of her that her seeing stars and crying out his name.
Her nails clawed at his back and feeling territorial over the fact that the woman in her apartment had been blatantly ogling her husband, she sunk her teeth into his neck in the exact same place she had their wedding night. The feeling of Hermione's walls clamping around him tightly to the point it was almost painful, her loud moans, and her raking her nails down his back was too much to bear, and when she bit him, he lost all control and found his release with a muffled groan of her name.
"I'm sorry for biting you again," Hermione said guiltily through her pants. He lifted his head from her neck, his expression amused. "I couldn't help it, I'm feeling a little territorial and I didn't like the way she was staring at you, she looked about ready to jump you and my instincts told me to mark you."
"Am yers; ye have nothin' tae worry aboot," he promised.
"I know and I'm yours, but that doesn't stop my feelings or instincts."
He kissed her before setting back on her feet, steadying her when she wobbled and after she found her balance, he quickly retrieved some underwear and a pair of tracksuit bottoms and slipped them on.
"Aren't you going to put on a shirt?"
"Naw, yer feelin' territorial an' her seeing the bite mark an' the scratches on me back will help ye with tha'; am showcasing tha' am yers."
"You're being very sweet about all this. I thought you'd make fun of me."
"Don' get mae wrong, a think it's funny as hell, but it wouldn't bode well fer mae tae wind ye up. Not when ye can hex mae or take away the thing a love the most."
"What?" She tipped her head, her brow furrowing in confusion.
He slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her into him, his other hand coming up to her face as the calloused pads of his fingers traced down her cheek and over her lips. "This." He traced his fingers down her neck, over her heart and over her breasts. "This." He traced his fingers down her clothed stomach and to her bare thigh. "Yer kisses, yer mind, yer body, yer heart an' yer love," he muttered softly, staring into her eyes.
"I will never grow tired of loving you," she sighed, her chest pooling with warmth and affection. She didn't know it was possible to love someone so much.
"An' a'll love ye forever," he kissed her softly, smiling down at her. "Besides, she may not even be oot there. We were very loud," he smirked and she blushed.
"Let's go and check."
After casting a quick Cleaning Charm and Accioing a pair of sleep shorts, she slipped them on underneath her jersey and they made their way to the living room with Hermione tucked into Oliver's side and an arm around his waist and he had one around her shoulders and as they stepped into view, they both looked far less irritated and had small smiles on their faces.
Smyth shuffled in her seat when she saw them and she felt herself growing warm and her face flushed. She'd heard every moan, groan, curse and cry and she knew exactly what they'd been doing. It didn't help matters when she saw Hermione's crinkled jersey and messed up hair or Oliver's messed up hair and smug expression. As she sat in the centre of the corner suite, Quaffle was curled up on the armchair, his eyes solely focused on her.
"I'm going to make some tea, would you like one?" Hermione asked both Oliver and Smyth and when she received their answers, she walked into the kitchen and Oliver took a seat on the couch opposite Smyth, watching her with a smirk playing at his lips. Hermione returned not long later, setting hers and Oliver's tea on the coffee table and then taking a seat beside him, snuggling into Oliver's shirtless side with her feet pulled up onto the couch and his arm around her shoulders. Once she'd gotten comfortable, Quaffle jumped off the armchair and climbed onto the couch next to Oliver, wriggling himself in-between the armrest and Oliver, partially sprawled across his lap.
"What can we do fer ye?" Oliver asked the flushed woman who was squirming in her seat and her eyes were darting between Hermione and him.
She cleared her throat, reached for her briefcase and removed a self-inking quill and a stack of papers which she placed on the glass coffee table.
"There are a series of questions I need to ask yourself and Miss. Granger."
"Mrs. Wood," Oliver corrected instantly, pinning her with a look of warning.
"Mrs. Wood, my apologies," she said, sending a less than friendly glance to Hermione. "Firstly, has the marriage been consummated?"
Oliver snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes before she lifted her right hand to show the gold wedding ring. Smyth knew fine well it had been given what she and Oliver had been up to whilst she waited for them to return. Glowering, she scribbled on the parchment before her.
"Would you describe your relationship to be a happy one?"
"Look around," Oliver replied with a gestured wave of his arm towards the framed photographs framing the walls.
Smyth's eyes flittered about, seeing the walls covered with framed photos of him, Hermione and their family. In each one they were smiling and laughing and kissing. She scowled and wrote down her answer whilst keeping an eye on the newlyweds, observing their interactions and behaviour.
Hermione had her left hand pressed against Oliver's shirtless chest, her fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly whilst they stared at each other lovingly. Oliver had an arm around her shoulders as he played with a curl of her hair and Quaffle was beside Oliver and he had his other hand scratching Quaffle's stomach.
"Aside from the photos, I need evidence that you are making an effort in the marriage, so I must ask you both a series of questions which you must answer for the other."
"Will this be publicised?" Hermione questioned, eyeing the woman before her carefully.
"No, Miss. Granger..."
"Mrs. Wood," Oliver corrected, interrupting her.
"Mrs. Wood, these files are confidential and will be stored at the Ministry. Only a small selection of people will have access to them and their contents."
"That doesn't mean that it won't be leaked," she pointed out, "Our wedding date was leaked before we had the chance to send out the invitations."
"Security measures will be taken," Smyth replied tartly. "Now, moving on, what is your partner's favourite colour?"
"Oliver's is midnight blue," Hermione answered easily.
"Sparrow doesn't have one, it changes with her mood," Oliver shrugged whilst Smyth jotted down their answers.
"Favourite place to shop?" She asked.
"Easy, Muggle London," Oliver shrugged.
"And for Oliver, it's a tossup between the Quidditch shop and Muggle London."
"Favourite place to be?"
Oliver snorted. "There's naw point in even asking tha', everyone knows," he said, looking down at Hermione amused. "It's the library, the kitchen or the lake at Wood Manor."
"And Oliver's is the Puddlemere Stadium, the lake at Wood Manor or his old treehouse."
"Birthdays?" She asked and they both rolled their eyes before sharing an annoyed glance.
"Oliver's is 13th January 1976."
"Sparrow's is 19th September 1979."
"NEWT results?"
"Oliver got four E's and two O's," Hermione answered, her head tilting to lean against Oliver's shoulder, having long since grown bored of the easy line of questioning. If this was what the Ministry deemed as the paired wizarding folk 'getting to know one another' then the other forced couples were screwed.
"Hermione's yet tae take her NEWTs, and will be doin' so in September, but she'll get all O's," he said proudly.
She asked a few more questions on similar topics before she asked for a tour of the apartment, Hermione being unsure if it was required or if she was just being a nosey cow, wanting to see the home of Oliver Wood. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Smyth was one of Oliver's fangirls, judging by the glances she kept shooting her way.
But not wanting to pick a fight with the woman, she and Oliver appeased her, Hermione taking pride in the way Smyth's eyes widened upon seeing Oliver's scratched back and the bite mark on his neck.
They gave her a quick tour around the apartment, not lingering on one room too long as they wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible, which is when they finally reached the last few rooms in the apartment and they stopped at Hermione's old bedroom.
"Do you share a bedroom?" The woman questioned.
"Aye, we do, we jus' havnae moved Hermione's stuff intae our room yet as we've been preoccupied," Oliver smirked and Hermione smacked at his arm with the back of her hand.
"What will this be?" She asked, looking about the empty and not yet decorated room.
"We've decided it will be a study area an' potions lab, so Hermione can prepare fer her practical exams and continue inventing products fer her brother's joke shop in her spare time," Oliver answered, walking away and towards the library and after a quick look into the room, they came to the final room, their bedroom.
Smyth's eyes widened, not only due to the sheer size, but it wasn't exactly spotless with bedsheets, pillows, cushions and items of clothing littering the floor.
"Does your room always look like this?" She asked with a snooty tone Hermione didn't appreciate.
How dare she?
Oliver felt Hermione bristle beside him and he reached out, nudging Hermione to stand before him and he folded his arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her shoulder. Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, he placed a kiss against her neck, a smirk tugging at his mouth when he saw the jealously that flashed through Smyth's eyes.
"Naw, it doesn't, but what can I say? This is our honeymoon weekend an' a have a beautiful wife tha' a cannae help but ravish," he replied. Hermione elbowed him and he sniggered before she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room and back to the living room, retaking their previous seats.
"I am happy to confirm this apartment is suitable to house children," said Smyth, scribbling away at her parchment.
"I'll say," Hermione snorted, "It's bigger than my parent's house," she joked.
"I imagine it would be," Smyth replied snidely and Oliver's eyes narrowed dangerously, having had enough of her sly little digs. "Now, I assume you will be complying with the rules?"
"What? Aboot ravishing me wife? Naw worries there," Oliver assured her, sniggering when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
"You cannot use any form of contraceptives, including magical and muggle. If you are not expecting a child or birthed a child by this time next year, charges will be brought against you unless proven infertile."
"We know," Hermione sighed with a roll of her eyes, being tired of being reminded of the rules that hung over them. "I may, however, be infertile."
"What?" Smyth said quickly.
"Me wife may be infertile due tae consequences af the war."
"How long have you been aware of this?"
"Twa weeks befere the wedding," Oliver shrugged, not seeing an issue with it.
"And you did not petition for a new match, knowing that Miss. Granger may not be able to comply with the law or give you children?" She said in a tone that Oliver didn't like and he sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped as he narrowed his eyes into slits. He was furious.
"Miss. Smyth, me choices regarding me marriage an' my wife are none af yer concern. Me wife made mae fully aware af her situation an' with plenty af time tae allow mae tae petition the Ministry if a wished tae. She practically begged mae tae ask the Ministry fer a new match, but a refused. A love me wife, Miss. Smyth, an' whether or not she can have children is irrelevant. There are other options fer us, including adoption. Jus' 'coz me wife may not be able tae have biological children doesn't mean a love her any less. She's a war veteran an' a hero. She suffered so tha' stuck up cows like ye could live freely an' withoot dictatorship. If a were ye, a'd be thankful this world has someone who would stand up an' fight fer it," Oliver said coldly, pinning the woman with a cold glare.
"A married me wife 'coz a wanted tae, not 'coz a was forced tae. She wears me ring an' has taken me name 'coz she chose tae. As far as we're concerned, this whole shit-show tha' is the law, doesn't apply tae us. We'll comply with the rules as expected but tha' the extent af it. A won't stand fer ye picking apart me marriage or me wife, an' a swear, if ye don' change yer attitude an' stop making sly little digs at her fer whatever reason it is yer doin' it fer, a'll report ye tae yer department head an' Minister Shacklebolt, someone who's good friends with Hermione," Hermione warned.
"Oliver," Hermione muttered, her hand coming to rest on his arm. He looked at her over his shoulder before sitting back and tugging her into his side, pulling her legs so they were thrown over his lap and he ran his fingers over her soft skin whilst the other was slotted around her back, his hand pressed against her stomach under her jersey.
"I suggest we get on with this meeting," Hermione said calmly, breaking the tense silence that had settled in the room.
Smyth shook her head, her eyes darting between Oliver and Hermione before she cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.
"Agreed. I need to know your routine, what you do daily?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It's pretty much the same as it was before the wedding."
"Except now a ravish her at any chance a get," Oliver added, looking to Hermione amusedly when she blushed. "What? It's true," he said innocently.
"Your routine?" Smyth pressed.
"I wake around eight," Hermione started.
"Then a wake after her an' ravish her," Oliver interjected. Hermione's blush darkened.
"I make breakfast for myself, Oliver and Quaffle and..." She was cut off.
"What do you have for breakfast?" Smyth asked.
"That depends, sometimes it's a full English breakfast, other times it's banana or chocolate chip pancakes, sometimes it's waffles or toast, eggs and bacon, sometimes we have hash browns and blueberry pancakes and sometimes we just have cereal."
"What do you do next?"
"I'll make lunch for the team," she answered.
"An' a'll try an' ravish her again an' 'coz she cannae resist mae, she'll give in," Oliver said smugly.
"I'll shower and dress," Hermione said, shooting Oliver an annoyed glance.
"A'll try an' ravish her in the shower an' she'll probably hex mae," he added.
Hermione smacked his arm with the back of her hand before looking to the uncomfortable Smyth. "Depending on how long we've got left, Oliver and I go over plays for the team or I do a little revision for my NEWTs."
"We leave fer work around quarter tae ten," Oliver picked up, "An' we'll come home no later than half six, depending on whether a shower at the stadium. Hermione'll make dinner an' a'll sit at the table, talking with her. After dinner, a'll help with wishing the dishes an' then we'll either sit in the living room, the library or our bedroom."
"Oliver'll read or go over plays and I'll work on my books, do some revision or read whilst Quaffle sits with us and chews on something he's not supposed to," Hermione continued, looking at her sleeping puppy fondly.
"We'll head tae bed around eleven o'clock, an' a'll ravish her at least twice befere calling it a night," finished Oliver, sniggering when Hermione kicked him.
"There was a lot of ravishing in there," Hermione muttered and Oliver smirked whilst Smyth shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Oh? An' it's all gonna happen," he promised, looking to her with a hungry expression and Hermione's blush returned to her cheeks.
"What's your weekly routine?"
"Four nights a week, my brothers, Fred and George, come over for dinner. Oliver and I work from ten o'clock until six o'clock, Monday to Saturday. Sunday we have dinner over at the Weasley's house and Oliver's parents now join us. Monday, we usually go food shopping after work, some nights we stay home and others we'll visit Diagon Alley or go to the lake at Wood Manor. On the days that there's a match, if the team wins they go out for the victory party and I'll come home with Quaffle and do some work. Oliver's always back before midnight."
"Well, am not gonna stay oot late when a have a stunning wife tha' needs ravishing, am I?" He argued. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Speaking af which, yer comin' with us next time."
"You don't want me to go out with you and the team," she protested.
"Aye, a really do. Ye can scare away the fangirls so we can have some peace while we celebrate."
She snorted. "I'll drink you all under the table. You think fire whiskey's bad? You should try muggle alcohol; the alcohol percentage is almost double. You and the boys wouldn't stand a chance against me."
"Tha' settles it, yer comin' so a can see ye royally kick their arses."
She snorted before turning her eyes back to Smyth, being thankful for her next words.
"That concludes the Ministry check, for now. You will next receive a visit in two to three months time." With that said, she packed up her briefcase and Oliver showed her out and locked the door after her.
He pounced on Hermione, sending her backwards on the couch and she laughed at him as he hovered over her.
"It's aboot time she left, am dying tae see another af yer tattoos," he grinned.
"Well, I suppose you have been very sweet about the fact that I bit you again," she mused, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.
He sat up and she followed him, lifting her right leg and resting her foot in his lap, twisting her foot until he could see her outer ankle and she removed the Glamour Charm, her tattoo appearing. Above her ankle sat a pretty red rose with pink highlights and green leaves, and above the rose were two butterflies with their wings spread. One was lilac, the other ultramarine blue. He smiled at how feminine and cute it was and he reached out, tracing the design with his finger.
"When did ye get it an' why?"
"I got it about three weeks after the Final Battle, and it's for my parents. Red roses symbolise love and they were my mother's favourite flower. Butterflies were one of my father's favourite animals, I don't know why, he just loved them. I remember he used to collect them. My mother's favourite colour was lilac and my father's was ultramarine blue. It's in memory of them, so I don't forget the little things."
He smiled before lifting her ankle and pressing a kiss over the tattoo. "Yer've got one more," he reminded.
"Wouldn't you rather be surprised?"
"Nope, a wanna see it now," he said, giving her his best puppy dog eyes and she laughed at how ridiculous he looked.
"Fine," she rolled her eyes in defeat.
She shifted the jersey slightly so that he could see her right collar bone and then she cancelled the Glamour Charm, revealing the seven small black silhouettes of flying birds.
"When an' why?" He asked, reaching out to trace the tattoo with his fingers.
"I got this one the night of the Final Battle. It's to represent my freedom. For seven years, I fought a war and there was danger lurking around every corner. Now, I can make my own choices and live my life how I want to. There are seven birds, one to represent each year of the war. Seven years of living in fear."
"What would ye think if a got one?"
"A tattoo?" She checked and he nodded. "I don't know, it's very painful," she teased.
"A can handle the pain," he argued. Hermione looked at him disbelievingly and Oliver narrowed his eyes, laughter peeling from her when he proceeded to tickle her, only stopping when she begged and her eyes were watering. "Seriously though?"
"It's your body; you can do what you want with it. It wouldn't bother me. In fact, I think Charlie will love us. He won't be the only one to have tattoos and Maji won't scold him as much since her attention will turn to us," she shrugged. Oliver laughed. "If you get one, I'll have to heal you, it takes a while for the skin to heal and you'll be sore and itchy for a few days. And if you get hit by a bludger in the same place as your tattoo..." Hermione trailed off, allowing him to come to his own conclusions.
"A think a want tae get one," he nodded to himself.
"If that's what you want to do."
"Are ye gonna get any more?"
"I'm not sure," she answered thoughtfully. "No one would expect the prim and proper Hermione Granger to have something so permanent."
"But yer not Hermione Granger. Yer Hermione Wood," he corrected and she smiled at him. "Will ye do somethin' fer mae?"
"Anything," she nodded.
"Don' wear a jacket tamorrow tae the stadium an' don' Glamour an' cover yourself." She frowned at him. "It's the middle af summer an' the weather's boiling, it's tae warm fer ye tae be wearing a jacket an' bundling up, an' yer scars aren't somethin' ye should be hiding; they're a part af ye an' covering them is ye not being yerself."
"Rule forty-nine, be who you are and don't hide your true self," Hermione mused thoughtfully.
"If it's one af yer rues then ye should follow it," Oliver said softly. "Ye won't be looked at any differently. Instead, they'll see what a see, a beautiful an' strong young woman. Ye'll be showcasing tae the world tha' yer a survivor an' tha' ye don' let the horrors af yer past dictate ye. Ye'll be a role model."
"Okay, I won't wear a jacket or Glamours," she agreed and Oliver smiled proudly. "You just want the team to see my tattoos," she accused.
Oliver chuckled. "Aye, a do, they're sexy as hell, they'll be even more jealous," he grinned.
She rolled her eyes at him. "So, you want a tattoo?" He nodded. "Why don't we go into Muggle London today and you can get one?"
"Or we can stay here all day so a can ravish ye," he offered. She arched an eyebrow. "Or it can wait till we get back."
She laughed. "Any idea of what you want?"
"Anno exactly what a want," he said vaguely, smiling at her knowingly.
"I forget to tell you that Coach owled yesterday morning whilst you were finishing in the shower. Apparently, I get my own office."
"Really?" Oliver looked pleased at hearing the news.
"Hmm, he asked me how I wanted it to look, so I drew out a plan and informed him of colour choices and sent a reply with the owl that was waiting. I get my own bathroom. too"
"A bathroom in yer office?"
"Apparently, so," she shrugged. "I think while we're out we should head to Diagon Alley and get an owl."
"Hmm, it'd be much easier than havin' tae borrow me parents," Oliver said thoughtfully. "We may as well visit Gringotts whilst we're there an' get ye added tae me account."
"If they let me in," she shrugged.
"An' why wouldn't they let ye in?" He arched an eyebrow.
"I broke in, stole from a vault, broke out and stole their guard dragon and then set it free."
"Ah, fergot 'boot tha'," he said, scratching his chin and she laughed at him.
"So, we'll go to Gringotts first, then to the Eeylops Owl Emporium, we'll drop our owl off here and then we'll head into Muggle London and get you a tattoo. We can see about getting some DVD's whilst we're there and start building a collection. Are we going to the Burrow tonight for dinner?"
"May as well," he nodded, "Let the family know we survived all the sex."
She blushed and he laughed.
"I'll make breakfast." She jumped up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen.
"An' a'll distract ye," he said, following her and she laughed and ran as he chased her.
~000~000~000~
Muggle London
Hermione'd dressed in a white spaghetti strap top, black shorts, white converse and a white cover-up and just as Oliver had asked, she hadn't Glamoured any of her scars (well, except her Mudblood one, but that was understandable). And Oliver dressed in jeans, a black form-fitting short-sleeved t-shirt and black trainers, forgoing a jacket given the warm weather.
They'd been to Diagon Alley and Hermione'd been correct about Gringotts; they'd been less than welcoming and barely let her set foot in the building and Quaffle had to wait outside. Hermione's and Oliver's vaults and accounts had been combined and they were the sole people who could access it.
They'd then visited Eeylops Owl Emporium and purchased an owl. As they wandered through the shop, Hermione had noticed a snowy owl in the back corner of the room sat in a cage and she'd fallen in love with it immediately, rushing over to it with Oliver laughing and following her at a leisurely pace. The snowy owl was strikingly different from others that shared its name. This owl was smaller, had beautiful bright blue eyes and it had a distinctive purple-blue pattern to its soft white feathers. When they'd asked the manager about the owl, he'd informed them that the owl was female, barely three-months-old and was set to be euthanized due to her undesired appearance. It was common to see snowy owls with a black pattern to their feathers, and it was rare to see one with blue eyes as most had a yellow-orange colour, but this owl was an anomaly and due to her 'deformity' as he'd called it, was due to be put to sleep. Hermione had acted immediately and insisted that she purchase the owl and the owner was more than glad to have it taken off his hands.
Hermione and Oliver purchased the small and unique snowy owl along with plenty of owl treats before they headed back to the apartment, releasing the owl from the cage and she flew around the room happily and Quaffle barked and chased after her. They named her Alium -Ali for short- which was Latin for different.
They left Ali to explore the apartment and Hermione, Quaffle and Oliver went into Muggle London. They'd purchased many DVD's that they were curious about and they hid in an alleyway and banished them back to the apartment and then they visited a tattoo parlour.
And that's where they could be found, Hermione and Oliver were inside whilst Quaffle obediently waited in the reception area of the building. Oliver perched in the comfortable chair whilst Hermione sat beside him, holding the t-shirt he'd taken off after she'd Glamoured Oliver's neck and back, daring him to remove them and after seeing the frightening look in her eyes, he'd decided to keep them on.
The tattoo artist they were with had dark brown hair, green eyes, his arms were covered in tattoos and he looked to be in his mid-twenties. They'd learned his name was Liam.
"So, is this your first tattoo?" Liam asked and Oliver nodded as the older man slipped on his gloves and picked up the tattoo gun.
"I've told him it's going to hurt."
"You have tattoos?" Liam asked, looking to her questioningly.
She nodded. "Three."
As a result of not wearing any Glamours, her tattoos were on display. She lifted her right foot so he could see her ankle and she shifted her jacket so he could see her collar bone.
"I have a phoenix near my right hip, too."
After complimenting the work, he turned back to Oliver, making a start on the design and Oliver hissed in surprise, Hermione sniggering at him. She didn't know what he was getting because he wanted it to be a surprise, no matter who many times she'd asked.
"So, how d'you know each other?" Liam asked, making conversation whilst his eyes were firmly locked on his task.
"She's me wife," said Oliver proudly.
Liam whistled in appreciation. "You did well for yourself there, Mate," he replied and Hermione blushed and averted her gaze.
"Yer've naw idea," Oliver replied.
"How long you been married?"
"We got married on Thursday," Hermione answered.
"Are you here on your honeymoon?"
"No, we haven't had one due to work commitments."
"Surely you could've taken some time off," Liam's brow furrowed before his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he focused on a particularly detailed aspect of the design.
"Oliver's a professional athlete and I'm the Junior Coach of his team. We're in the middle of game season," she said and Liam nodded in understanding. "In fact, we have a match on Wednesday, we're travelling to Ireland."
"We're having a honeymoon after the season's over," spoke Oliver.
The continued to chat and Liam laughed as Hermione and Oliver bickered and taunted each other and once he'd finished, he drew back, looking pleased with himself before he handed Oliver a handheld mirror so he was able to look at his new and completed tattoo.
Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth parted at the sight. On his left pectoral muscle and sitting above his heart, he had a tattoo of a sparrow. It looked rather big for such a small bird, and it was black and grey with some shading, it was incredibly detailed but it still appeared simple and beautiful.
"You got a sparrow?" Her voice squeaked and he nodded with a smile.
"A rather like it, helps ye tae fend aff all the fangirls, tae," he said amusedly, winking at her.
Seeing Liam's confused expression as he wrapped the tattoo up, Hermione said,
"It's what he calls me."
Nodding, he said, "So, whilst you're here, are you up to getting another tattoo?"
She shrugged. "May as well but I haven't really thought about what I want next," she replied, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
After a few minutes of thought, Hermione removed her cover-up and swapped places with Oliver, sitting with her back facing Liam and she pulled her hair over her shoulder, out of the way as Liam set to work on her right shoulder.
"If you don't mind me asking, these scars?" He said
Hermione flinched and Oliver gave her an encouraging smile and she took a deep breath.
"I was a soldier of war."
"Was? You seem a bit young to be a soldier," he observed.
"I've come to learn war doesn't care for age," she muttered.
"Well, you should be proud of your scars. Show them off and fuck what everyone else thinks. You're a hero and a survivor. "So, how did the two of you meet?"
"We went tae the same boarding school fer people with special talents. A was four years ahead af her."
"That's cool," he remarked, "What's your special talent then?"
Hermione snorted. "Does having an ego the size of Mount Everest count?" She teased and Liam snorted.
"Does havin' a temper more frightening than fear itself count?" Oliver cheeked and Hermione stuck her tongue out at him as Liam laughed.
"Anyway, when I retired from the service, I moved in with my brothers and I worked at their joke shop until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I met Oliver and then eventually I met the team and their wives," she said.
"They not nice people?" Liam guessed, seeing Oliver's scowl.
"About as nice as getting eaten alive by piranhas," Hermione replied. Oliver had no idea what she was talking about, but judging by the way Liam winced, he suspected it wasn't a good thing.
"They're malicious, vindictive an' bitchy. They look down on everyone an' a've already had tae ban one af them from the stadium an' home games," said Oliver.
"Why?"
"Hermione's allergic tae coconut an' she had a bad allergic reaction the day she met the team. A had tae take her tae hospital an' we discovered tha' one of the girlfriends was wearing coconut oil an' she refused ta wash it aff after ordered tae do so. Hermione came oot with the best comeback a've ever heard," he snorted.
"What'd you say?" Liam asked, curiously arching an eyebrow.
"I think it was something along lines of her looking like a greased up baby with wrinkles," she said.
Liam burst out laughing and had to pull the tattoo gun away from her.
"There Hermione was lying on the floor recovering from an allergic reaction an' she comes oot with tha'. It was brilliant," Oliver shook his head. "A few days after, she leaked tae the press tha' we were getting married an' as a result, Hermione was attacked at her brother's shop by me fans," Oliver grumbled unhappily.
Liam looked stunned and Hermione nodded at him.
"Both Oliver and Coach banned her from the stadium that day. I had to quit working at my brother's shop for my safety and I was hired by Coach Burton to be the new Junior Coach."
"Hang on, Coach Burton?" Liam said in shock, his eyes widening. "Coach Burton? Coach Ted Burton?"
Hermione and Oliver shared a surprised glance before they turned to him slowly.
"How'd you know?" They chorused.
Liam glanced around nervously, put down the tattoo gun and glanced around once more before whispering,
"I'm a Half-blood."
Hermione spun in her chair to face him before wandlessly muttering a Silencio, preventing anyone from overhearing their conversation.
"What?"
"I'm a Half-blood wizard," he repeated. "I moved to the Muggle World when there were rumours of You-Know-Who's return, I haven't been back to the Wizarding World."
"I don't believe it," Hermione laughed in disbelief. "Out of all the muggle tattoo parlours we could possibly go to, we come to this one were our tattoo artist is a wizard," she shook her head.
"So, I'm guessing that you play for Puddlemere Untied and you're the Junior Coach," Liam said.
"Oliver made Captain this year and he's the Keeper. We won the war. Voldemort's gone and the majority of Death Eaters are in Azkaban or dead. It's safe for you to return to the Wizarding World," she promised and he looked relieved by the news.
"So, what was your name before you married?"
"Hermione Granger." His eyes widened. "You've heard of me?" She estimated.
"Who hasn't?" He snorted. "Even before I left you were all over the newspapers. The most famous Muggleborn witch is in my shop," he shook his head in disbelief. "How's it fairing on the other side?"
"Surprisingly well, everyone's getting on with their lives. Except there's now a marriage law."
"What? Seriously?" He stuttered.
"Unfortunately," she nodded, quickly explaining the reasoning behind it and the stipulations it came with.
"If I was going to come back, I'd have to marry a stranger?" He frowned.
"Not necessarily," she shrugged, "They may give you an exemption as you need time to settle back in. But if they do give you a match, it's supposedly your perfect match."
"So how long have you two actually been together?" He eyed them curiously.
"Not tha' long," Oliver shrugged. "But tha' doesn't matter tae us. We took the time tae get tae know one another, we put in the effort, an' she moved in with mae befere our wedding so we had time tae get used tae each other being in such close quarters. An' we married 'coz we wanted tae, not 'coz we were forced tae," Oliver looked to Hermione, sharing a smile with her. "Anyway, the league's back underway. We've had three games so far; Montrose Magpies, Wimbourne Wasps an' the Holyhead Harpies. We won all three," he gloated and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Didn't I tell you he had a big ego?" She sighed and Liam laughed. "We've got a match on Wednesday against the Ballycastle Bats. If you want to come, we can get you a ticket."
"Really?" He asked excitedly.
"Yes," she nodded.
"That's great, thanks. I miss Quidditch."
"I'll owl it to you tomorrow, and I'll have a room booked for you so you can stay in the same hotel as us."
"Ye wanna come tae the victory party?" Oliver asked.
"You don't know that we'll win," Hermione pointed out.
"With ye knocking us intae shape we'll win," he replied confidently.
"He has got a point; if we win, do you want to celebrate? Oliver doesn't believe that muggle alcohol is twice as strong as wizarding alcohol, or that I can drink him under the table."
Liam laughed. "I'll make sure to bring plenty of muggle alcohol, just so I can see you out drink the team," he agreed.
It didn't take long for him to finish Hermione's tattoo and she walked over to the mirror and turned and looked over her shoulder, smiling at the sight of the black cat in a sitting position with a witches hat on its head and a broom stood next to it.
Hermione thanked Liam as did Oliver before they paid and left him a huge tip and took their leave, returning to the apartment.
~000~000~000
Wood Apartment
"There's still one scar ye havnae shown mae yet," Oliver said as they sat on the couch together in the living room, watching Ali fly around happily whilst Quaffle chased her. "If ye think a dinnae notice tha' ye Glamoured it, yer wrong 'coz a did."
"I don't like looking at it," she confessed quietly.
"Well, ye don' have tae, a will."
She looked at his hopeful expression before sighing in defeat, removing her cover-up and holding out her left forearm, her eyes closing. Oliver reached for his wand on the glass coffee table and removed the Glamour, his breath hitching as he stared at the scar, a glower appearing at the sight of the word 'Mudblood', forever being carved into her, marring her beautiful skin. He tenderly traced it with his fingers and pressed a kiss to it, Hermione's eyes fluttering open.
"This word doesn't define ye. Yer a beautiful, strong an' powerful Muggleborn witch. Tha' means ye can survive in both worlds an' ye have magical ancestry. This scar's a reminder tha' ye beat her. Ye survived her torture," he told her softly. Hermione slowly nodded. "Please don' ever cover yer scars again."
She pulled her arm back before turning her attention to healing his tattoo, it no longer looking as though he'd just gotten it done, rather it looked weeks old. Once she was done, she taught Oliver a few healing spells which he used on her tattoo to take down any swelling, itchiness and redness.
He then proceeded to ravish her on the couch.
~000~000~000~
The Burrow
Hermione and Oliver floo'd to the Burrow and they'd decided to bring Ali along to meet the family. Everyone had already beaten them there including Oliver's parents and Charlie was still visiting but would be returning to Romania the next morning. Quaffle barged into the kitchen and they could hear them laughing as Hermione and Oliver followed him.
"Everyone, I would like you to meet Alium, Ali for short," Hermione announced as they entered the kitchen to see everyone sat around the table.
"She's beautiful," Charlie remarked, being the ever animal lover. Ali perked up and flew off Hermione's hand and over to Charlie, perching on his shoulder and she pecked his ear and nuzzled his cheek. Hermione scowled and they sniggered at her.
"Traitor," she muttered, Oliver chuckling and leading her own to the two empty seats at the table.
"A've never seen anythin' like her before, she's beautiful," Mrs. Wood complimented and it earned her an affectionate hoot from Ali.
"The manager at Eeylops was going to have her euthanized. Apparently, she has a deformity," she scoffed.
"I don't see anything wrong with her," Charlie's brow furrowed as he offered his hand and the little owl hopped onto it, Charlie's eyes narrowing in search of something he may have missed.
"He meant her appearance. It's common for snowy owls to have black patterns on their feathers and it's rare for them to have blue eyes, but Ali's smaller, has blue eyes and she has the purple-blue pattern on her feathers. It's never been seen before and instead of realising that she's a one of a kind, he was going to have her killed," she scowled.
"Well, I don't care what anyone says about her, she's stunning," Charlie said passionately and the owl nuzzled him again and hooted.
"How has your weekend been, Dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as the food was being passed around and people were filling their plates.
"Good," she answered. "Relaxing and quiet, something I needed." Fleur gave Hermione a questioning look and Hermione subtly nodded receiving a smile in response. "We've framed some of the wedding photos and put them up already, and we're turning the empty room into a study area and potions lab so I can make products for the joke shop again instead of just designing them." The twins looked overjoyed at the news. "I've also finished my journals for my second year and I'm halfway through my third year. Unfortunately, we were visited by a Marriage Official today."
"Already?" The twins chorused in surprise.
Hermione nodded. "What was her name again?" She asked Oliver.
"Karen Smyth," he grumbled, "A dinnae like her, she was an awful woman."
She snorted. "Neither did I," she agreed.
"Why?" Bill arched an eyebrow; it took a lot for Hermione to dislike someone.
"She was rude an' kept making sly digs aboot Hermione and she questioned me choices in me marriage but she soon corrected her appalling behaviour when a threatened tae report her tae her department head fer unprofessionalism," said Oliver, glowering down at his plate and spearing his chicken with his fork more forceful than necessary.
"Tha' ridiculous," his mother fumed angrily.
They both nodded.
"She refused tae call me Mrs. Wood, it was always Miss. Granger," added Hermione. "I think she might've been one of his fangirls, given the way she kept stealing glances at him and all but glared at me."
"A don' know what right she thought she had tae question me decision tae marry Hermione an' not petition fer a new match," he grumbled.
"Why would ye do tha'?" His mother tipped her head in confusion.
Hermione and Oliver shared a look with the twins before Hermione sighed, deciding it was time to tell them and Oliver held her hand above the table, rubbing his thumb over the back of it comfortingly.
"Due to my suffering in the war I...I... Well, I may not be able to have children," she confessed quietly. They all gaped at her. "My stomach, in particular, received a lot of damage, particularly during my torture sessions," she said sadly and she kept her eyes downcast.
"Hermione told mae befere the wedding, so tha' a could petition the ministry fer a new match but a refused tae abandon her. Jus' 'coz she may not be able tae have children doesn't mean a love her any less. An' we have other options, we could always adopt. A've assured Hermione tha' if we adopt, the children won't be loved any less an' they will be considered family." He gave everyone a look that dared them to disagree with him.
"Of course, we won't. We will love anyone you bring into this family unconditionally," Mrs. Weasley said softly, and then the subject was dropped.
Hermione removed her cover-up, being too warm and when they noticed her scars -she Glamoured her tattoos- they stared at her. She pretended not to notice and continued eating and after a few seconds, everyone else did, too, them being forgotten.
"So, what did Smyth want to know?" Percy asked.
Hermione answered, only because she knew Percy was due to marry and he would be receiving visits before long.
"In all honesty, I don't know if what she was asking us was Ministry approved or if she was just being a nosey hag. She wanted us to give her a tour of the apartment, asked if we were sharing a bedroom and what each room in the apartment was being used for. She confirmed the apartment was suitable for children and when I jokingly told her the apartment was bigger than my parent's house, she made a comment that I didn't appreciate," Hermione said. "She asked us questions and we had to answer for each other, proving that we'd taken the time and effort to make the marriage work."
"Our birthdays, favourite colours, favourite places tae go, what we got on our NEWTs, things like tha'," Oliver listed. "She wanted to know our daily routine and our weekly routine... The nosey bastard," he grumbled. Hermione tutted at Oliver and they sniggered at them.
"When she left, we went to Diagon Alley. I was barely let into Gringotts," she sighed and they laughed at her. "We bought Ali, then we went into Muggle London and bought a few things before we a tattoo parlour." They choked on their food in surprise and Hermione and Oliver laughed. "Unexpectedly, we discovered that Liam, our tattoo artist, was a Half-blood who'd moved to the Muggle World before the war. We're sending him tickets to the Ballycastle Bats game."
"Who got a tattoo?" Mr. Wood asked curiously.
"It was obviously, Wood. Hermione would never get a tattoo," Charlie scoffed and Hermione had to stop herself from laughing. "Show us then," he encouraged.
Shrugging, Oliver stood from his chair and lifted his shirt, the women exclaiming how beautiful it was and the men rolled their eyes and laughed.
"Why doesn't it look new?" Bill asked.
"Hermione healed it in case a get hit by a bludger," he answered. Charlie nodded in understanding and Oliver sat down and a smirk pulled at his mouth.
Hermione then stood and they all looked at her confused before she waved her hand and removed the Glamours. And they all stared in shock, some of them choking. They could only see the birds on her collar bone at the angle she was stood.
"You got a tattoo?" George spluttered.
"No, well yes, but I've had this one since the night of the Final Battle."
"You have two?" Charlie's voice rose.
"No, I have four," she corrected, taking pleasure in their priceless expressions before she showed them all her tattoos, told them when she got them and what they symbolised and despite Mrs. Weasley not liking tattoos, she didn't scold Hermione as her tattoos were all meaningful.
"I never would've thought you'd have a tattoo, let alone four," Charlie shook his head, looking at her in awe before he leaned over the table and they shared a high-fived with everyone laughing at them."Are you getting any more?"
"I don't know, I think Oliver wants to though," she looked at him and he nodded. "Next time you can come with us if you want." Charlie nodded eagerly. "Liam was very nice, spent most of his time laughing at us," Hermione chuckled. She looked up from her plate to see Charlie feeding Ali and she was pecking his finger affectionately. "Stop trying to steal my owl," she scowled.
After dinner, they all congregated in the living room and after they all broke off into their own conversations, Hermione caught sight of the golden band around her wrist, being reminded of it.
"Does anyone know what this is?" She asked the room, holding her wrist up and spying the parents sharing a knowing glance.
"Ye know something," Oliver stated, also catching their look and everyone turned their eyes to them expectantly.
"Naw, af course not, Dear," said his mother.
"Yer lying," Oliver accused.
"A have naw idea what yer talking aboot," she denied.
"Okay, you either tell us what's going on or I'll slip you Veritaserum," Hermione threatened.
"Tha's illegal," Mr. Wood pointed out.
"Your point being?" She arched an uncaring eyebrow and Oliver smirked proudly. "You either tell me or I'm going to raid every book in the Hogwarts Library and I'll tell Professor McGonagall that you're the reason I'm there, terrorising Madam Pince."
Understanding that she wasn't bluffing, they each shared a glance before nodding.
"Very well, there isnae much known aboot the band around yer wrists an' ye can only find reference tae it in very few books seeing as it isnaet a common occurrence," said Mr. Wood.
"What we do know is tha' it's a symbol af the bond the twa af ye share. It explains why yer feelings for each other grew so quickly, why yee comfortable around each other an' why ye dinnae feel obligated tae petition fer a new match like everyone else affected by the law is trying tae do," continued Mrs. Wood. "The bond tha' ye share is rare an' pure. A'm sure ye remember us telling ye stories as a child af witches an' wizards who were fated?"
Oliver slowly nodded, as did the other Purebloods present, making Hermione the only confused one in the room.
"It is said that once every two hundred years, a witch and wizard will be born who were made for one another. They will fit perfectly, be the other's missing half, they will balance each other out beautifully," Mrs. Weasley explained. "And once they are bound by marriage, a golden band will mark the skin of the couple to show the love they have for one another, as well as to ward off attention from members of the opposite gender."
"There isn't a name for the bond, it's simply referred to as 'the Golden Bond' and as we said earlier, little is known about it. You will be each other's happiness, you will love each other unconditionally and even if you have arguments and disagreements, you will always find your way back to each other. You are, essentially, each other's forever," finished Mr. Weasley with a smile.
Hermione blinked slowly, trying to process what they'd just revealed.
"You're saying that Oliver and I were fated to happen?" Hermione asked slowly.
"Aye, an' now tha' the bond has shown itself in the twa af ye, it won't be seen fer another twa hundred years. At least in Britain," Mr. Wood answered.
They all sat in silence digesting the news and Oliver was absentmindedly holding Hermione's hand and running his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.
"What would've happened if they hadn't of found each other?" George asked curiously and they pulled away from their thoughts to look at him. "Think about it, they likely wouldn't have met if it wasn't for this law. They went to the same school but he was four years above her. There was no reason for their lives to cross paths except maybe in the corridors. So what would've happened if the law hadn't been implemented?"
"They would've likely gone down different paths, likely never met, and likely never married. They would've married other people, but they wouldn't be happy. They may feel content but they would've never truly been happy. A part of them would be missing. The only way for them to achieve true happiness is for them to be together. When you died, your souls would've found each other's in the afterlife and you would finally be together, but your life won't have been complete, it won't have felt right," explained Mrs. Weasley.
"So the law's a good thing for us," Hermione muttered. "We were always going to be matched. It allowed us to find each other in life rather than death. It's allowed us to be happy. That's why we didn't have a problem with each other when we were matched, why we fell in love in only three weeks."
"Precisely," Mrs. Wood smiled. "When ye met fer the first time, a part af ye would've realised who the other was. Ye may not have noticed it, but it happened. The more time ye spent with each other, the happier ye would be. But a believe the final straw was when ye healed Oliver. When Oliver woke, ye said tha' ye could feel her magic, correct?" Oliver nodded. "An' ye said tha it's never happened befere, correct?" Hermione nodded. "Tha' was when yer magic truly knew who each other were. Yer magic combined an' bonded the twa af ye tagether, an' the wedding sealed it fer life."
"Oliver, when did you realise you loved Hermione?" Mr. Weasley curiously.
"A guess the night befere the Prophet revealed our engagement. We'd been decorating all day, we came here fer dinner an' then we went tae the lake at the manor. We were laughing 'coz Quaffle dinnae like Hermione giving mae all her attention... But a think a loved her the moment a saw her walk intae the room an' fall over whilst she was hopping around tryna put her shoe on, something in mae shifted after tha'." His brow furrowed thoughtfully and they laughed at him.
"We remember that," Fred said as he and George laughed loudly. "It was brilliant."
"Hermione?" Prompted Mr. Weasley.
"The day of the first match; Oliver was hurt and he was being led away to the medic's tent and he wasn't moving. The breath was knocked out of me and I remember that I couldn't breathe, that my head and chest hurt. I kept seeing him in my head on the stretcher and not moving. I realised that I loved him and that if he was hurt beyond healing, I wouldn't know how to live without him in my life. But now that I think about it, I think I've loved him since I saw him sitting at the kitchen table laughing at me because I fell over. Something inside me shifted, too."
"Ye were meant tae be. A suspect it's why ye work tagether as well as live together, ye prefer tae be around each other," Mr. Wood said and they nodded in agreement.
"Is this why I haven't had a nightmare since the wedding?" Hermione asked.
"Possibly," Mr. Weasley said. "Oliver's presence will calm you and now that the bond is complete and your magic has entwined, it's helping you to heal the mental scars of the war. It's preventing the nightmares"
"Hoo will this affect us?" Oliver asked.
"As far as we're aware, it shouldn't. You'll have normal lives and you'll only love each other. You'll never have the desire to commit adultery and you'll never see anyone the same way you see each other. Apart from that, you're a regular couple, except you are each other's absolute perfect match."
"Well, this will be one to tell the kids," Charlie commented and they laughed, officially breaking the tension. Hermione then noticed that Ali was sat on Charlie's shoulder, rubbing her beak against his hair.
"Will you stop trying to turn my Ali against me?" She grumbled, folding her arms over her chest in a huff.
"I can't help it if the beautiful ladies find me irresistible," he replied smugly, flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically.
It caused the twins to fall into a fit of hysterics, actually falling off the couch and landing on the floor with thuds.
"You're about as irresistible as one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts," George said through laughter.
"Or Filch!" Fred called through his laugh. Charlie scowled at them as everyone roared in laughter.